Everybody’s Birthday

We were in one of those big stores.  It was December 18th and there were four double sided rows of Christmas decorations, with old fashioned snow covered cottages for ornaments, and any number of things to hang on trees with flashing lights.  And my boy Eddie – he’s only six – ran up and down the aisles looking at all the colour, light and glitter.  “This wasn’t here last time we came.  What’s it for Dad?”

 We had been living abroad, where Christmas wasn’t celebrated.  So Eddie had never seen it before.  I told him people decorated their rooms with such things during Christmas.  Even the front of the house.  Eddie was quiet for a while, examining everything.  “Is that what Christmas is for then – lights and things?”

I smiled, a little sadly, looking at the gaudy display.  There was no sign of a crib, a stable or an infant child anywhere.  “No, it’s not about ornaments or trees or lights, Ed.  It’s about something wonderful that happens; so wonderful some people make a special day of it this time and call it Christmas.  They then remember that every time a baby is born life gives us the new chance, a new opportunity.  It’s to remind us that every time the sun rises we have a new day, a new life.  And whenever a new year begins life arises again from winter and darkness.  Christmas celebrates everybody’s birthday.